


The Princess Bride

by foxymoley



Category: Supernatural, The Princess Bride - William Goldman
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Boats, F/M, Fantasy, Fast Travel, M/M, Pirates, Swordfighting, The Princess Bride - Freeform, but only mentioned, graphic depiction of the death of a giant rat, john is a good dad, mentions of selling children, not dean or cas, past tense story telling, present tense narration, shreiking eels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-26 07:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley
Summary: This version of The Princess Bride follows the tale of Dean and Cas as told by Jack's grandfather Chuck, with plenty of twists that will have fans of the movie fall in love all over again, and those rare unicorns who haven't seen it will experience True Love.When Lady Jess, Lucifer's betrothed, is kidnapped, it kickstarts an epic journey from San Florin—by boat, on foot and through the Fire Swamp—to Guilder.On a quest for revenge against the Yellow Eyed Man who killed his father, Dean the master Swordsman meets a handsome stranger, Sam the Giant finds love above his station and Prince Lucifer gets the ending he deserves in this classic story of derring do, romance and humor.With cameos from Gabriel the Wise and his wife the witch.





	The Princess Bride

**Author's Note:**

> A word from the wonderful Illustrator of this fic:  
>    
> "Hello readers! I'm so happy I got to illustrate for Foxy. ♥ This fic was a lot of fun to read and a lot of fun to illustrate- I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! If you're interested in finding more of my art, you can find me on tumblr as blueeyesandpie- seeya there!
> 
> [Sunny](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/) is the beautiful artist and talented soul who claimed my fic and created some awesome art for it! I'm astounded by their enthusiasm and the thought that went into this collaboration. Thank you Sunny. ♥ 
> 
> Thank you so much to Toby, Nads and JJ for being wonderful betas and cheerleaders! Ily ♥  
> Thank you to Mal and JScribbles for the same and for running a great bang!

[ ](https://ibb.co/2Y3FyP7)

**Electronic video game music plays—a little loudly for a sick child, Chuck thinks as he makes his way past a gallery wall of family photos. A floorboard creaks under him and the music shuts off abruptly. Shaking his head fondly, he taps gently on his grandson's door.**

**"Jack? Can I come in?" Chuck waits until he hears a muffled affirmative and pushes open the heavily postered door to see a fluffy crop of dirty blond hair sticking out from under a hastily thrown comforter. "Hey little man, how are you feeling? Your dad says you're under the weather? Too sick for a visit?" Knowing the answer full well, Chuck pulls a chair up to the bed and sits. "Want to hear my latest story? It has your parents in it…?" Chuck pokes the lump in the covers gently until an eight year old head pops out grumpily.**

**"Alright. I'll try to stay awake," Jack croaks and Chuck laughs at his grandson's attempt at feigning illness.**

**"Alright. Thank you. You're very kind." The old man clears his throat and shifts to get more comfortable. Jack snuggles down, blanket up to his chin, to listen. "Our story begins in San Florin as the lady of our tale rides through the beautiful Forest of Muir…."**

 

Lady Jessica shook her hair from its constricting court hairstyle as she rode, the blonde tresses flowing as she gained speed. She closed her eyes, face tilted to the dappled sun, trusting her horse to know her well worn route. A sharp yell ahead caught her attention, and reining in, she slowed to a halt in front of a very tall, and very handsome man.

"Good morning, Miss. Might I trouble you for assistance? My brother has twisted his ankle and we have no horse or barrow with which to move him." Jessica was so taken by the man's polite speech and lovely appearance that she had failed to notice, what must be his brother propped up against a nearby tree trunk. She held out her hand and the man took it, easing her dismount. She looked up, and up, to face him. The man was a giant! Nearly seven feet tall and very broad about the shoulders. He looked at her with wide eyes and still held her hand but his gaze shifted over her shoulder sadly. "I'm very sorry for this, sweet lady." Before she could turn, she felt a cloth over her face, an acrid scent filled her nose and then she knew nothing but darkness.

 

* * *

 

 Jessica awoke wrapped in dark, shining furs on the deck of a sailboat. She was immediately handed a cup of water, which she took gratefully, and looked up into pretty hazel eyes. All that she had encountered on the road in San Florin came flooding back and she scrambled across the deck, away from the fair giant, and toward the freedom of the sea. Night had fallen but in her panic she leapt from the bow into the dark, choppy waters. She clung to the underside of the boat, gasping for breath in the icy water. Above her someone yelled indistinctly but his voice was drowned out by a sudden, long, ear splitting screech. She gripped the boat tighter, drawing her feet up and eyed the wooden railing but she pushed off out of reach when a bearded man stuck his head over the edge.

"Do you know what that sound is, darling? Those are the shrieking eels. If you don't believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they're about to feed. If you swim back now I promise no harm will come to you...I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels." She felt a tug at her long skirts and another at her sleeve. She kicked her feet and thrashed her arms, taking useless swipes at the large screaming creatures swarming around her.

 

**"She doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time." Chuck looks over the top of his glasses, pinning Jack with a serious look. "The eel doesn't get her...I'm explaining to you because you looked nervous." "I...I wasn't nervous," Jack stammers, pulling at his comforter. "Well, maybe I was a little bit concerned but that's not the same thing." "We can stop now if you want?" Chuck offers kindly. "No! I mean, you could tell me a little bit more...if you want?" Chuck pats Jack's knee then settles back in to continue. "Alright, where was I…?"**

 

A sharp nip at her boot made her decision for her but before she could swim back to the boat there was an almighty splash, the water around her surging, and her giant captor appeared, hooking a huge arm around her waist. He hoisted her up and shoved her bodily over the balustrade, kicking at the remaining eels clinging to their clothing as he hung from the side. Breathing heavily, she collapsed to the deck. She shivered violently and a fur was quickly wrapped around her shoulders and she looked up, this time into the green eyes of the brother. He smiled apologetically, smoothing the fur around her face.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm Dean Winchester. This here is my ginormous little brother, Sam. That asshole," he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a shadowy figure at the helm, "is Crowley. We don't want to hurt you but we will do what we have to to stop you from escaping. Capishe?" Jessica nodded. "Right Jess, we get to Guilder in a couple of hours. Sammy will look after you." He winked lewdly at her and she shrank back further.

 

**"Gross Grandpa!" Chuck simply laughs and continues.**

 

Jess huddled against the mast, watching the three men move around the polished deck of the schooner. The small portly man—Crowley—talked a lot, barking orders and insults at the other two. Dean wore a sword with a pearl inlaid grip at his hip, tight breeches and a shirt that caught the breeze.

She admired how he moved gracefully, pulling on ropes, noting that he must be an excellent swordsman. He occasionally squinted into the distance behind them and she wondered what he may have spotted. Sam lumbered around, smirking at, but ultimately responding to, his brother’s pleas for help with something particularly heavy. She stifled a laugh now and again as they played word games, Sam seemingly having a knack for rhymes. True to Dean's word, Sam brought her food and drink, smiling shyly as he added furs to her lap. He shared a few words with her here and there over the hours they sailed. Stories about his brother’s exploits, his mother's cooking, and second hand tales of a lost father. She sympathised with Sam but was still very aware she was a prisoner of these men, and so she humoured him and told her own stories to which he listened attentively.

"Sammy!" Dean called from the stern, beckoning him. "Come and see this." Sam moved away and Jess strained to listen in. Dean pointed out to the dark sea behind them, speaking of a light that had been following them since San Florin. Although puzzled, neither man looked too concerned, even when joined by Crowley. She watched as they argued over how fast each ship was and whether the following ship would be able to catch up or not, ultimately deciding that even if it did, the men aboard wouldn't be able to follow them up the sheer Cliffs of Insanity anyway. Despite coming to this conclusion, the two younger men worked harder at the rigging and the ship’s speed picked up.

 

**"I don't understand." Jack tilts his head and Chuck is reminded so much of his son. "How are _they_ gonna get up the cliff?" Chuck narrows his eyes and sighs. "Will you just let me tell you, Jack? Jeeze." He huffs as Jack rolls his eyes, and goes on.**

 

Jessica woke abruptly an indeterminate time later. The boat lurched to a stop—the Cliffs of Insanity looming overhead, higher than any tales could have prepared her for—as Crowley gathered his tools into a pack and swung himself awkwardly ashore. Jess had caught glimpses, over her last hour on the ship, of him feeding a length of thick rope between glowing hands and muttering. She had heard of the wizards and witches from the North and now, it seemed, she had met one. Hoisting the rope like a lasso, Crowley threw it skyward up the rockface. It flew to the very top, straight as an arrow and anchored itself unseen. Sam took up position below as Dean wrapped and tied the rope into a harness around Sam's back.

"Sweetheart?" Dean held out a hand to Jess gallantly but then pulled her unceremoniously from the ship. He shoved her by the backside on to Sam's back, smirking when it earned a dirty look from his brother. "Ok boss, on you get." Dean directed Crowley to Sam's torso, wrapping the rope around him once and warning him not to wriggle. "Ok Sam?" Sam nodded, so Dean wound the rope around his hand and hooked his foot into a loop at the end. He nodded to Crowley who yanked on the rope twice. Sam took off climbing, hand over hand, effortlessly rising up the side of the cliff as Dean dangled below, shouting encouragement and criticism equally. Upon reaching the top, they scrambled to solid ground, Dean releasing them all from the harness. Sam peered over the edge.

"The ship is nearly at the shore. Gold sails, silver trim. Pirates." Sam grimaced. "I don't know what they think we have of any worth...except her." Crowley huffed and dragged Jess to her feet.

"We'll just have to get a move on. Dean, wait here and hold them off. Sam, come with me." Dean nodded, lips drawn in to a serious pout, brow furrowed. Jess kept her eyes on him as she was manhandled away by Crowley, Sam quietly objecting to her treatment but getting shushed by the impatient man. They turned through a pass in the rocks and he was gone. She didn't expect to see him again.

 

* * *

 

 Dean drew his sword, swished it flamboyantly, and shuffled around the dusty clearing while he waited. With a huff, he stepped to the edge and squinted down to the far end of the rope where a single person was climbing without magical assistance. Dean paced to and fro before huffing again and calling down to the stranger.

"Hello there. Slow going?" Dean could just about see the glare directed his way before the man answered.

"I don't mean to be rude but this is not quite as easy as it looks, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me." Shamefaced by his acerbic tone, Dean apologised and continued to slash at the air. Not known for his patience, he peered over the edge again.

"I don't suppose you could speed things up?" he asked hopefully. The stranger paused in his climb, propping a foot on an outcrop.

"If you're in such a hurry, you could pull up the rope or find something useful to do." Dean hummed and propped his foot up on one of the many rocks ringing the clearing.

"I could do something like that. But I didn't think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you."

"That does put a damper on our relationship," the climber replied dryly. Dean chuckled.

"...but, I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top."

"That's very comforting, but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait," he grunted, struggling to climb.

"I hate waiting. I could give you my word as a swordsman?" Dean tried.

"No good. I've known too many swordsmen." Dean thought about this for a second then agreed with a shrug. "That's fair, is there another way you'll trust me?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

"I swear on the soul of my father, and the life of my mother, you will reach the top alive." The man gave Dean a long, hard look. "

Fine." Dean yanked on the rope twice and heard a deep yelp as the magic brought the climber up faster than they expected. Not long later a man was launched over the edge, stumbling slightly, and out of breath. He immediately sank into a fighting stance but struggled to draw his sword. Dean stepped back, hands raised. "Woah, have a seat. I can wait 'till you're ready."

"Thank you." Dean watched the man sit and pull a boot off, tipping it up until half the beach had fallen out.

"Um, look at me?" Dean asked. The man, who was in all black, including a half face mask with wide eye holes, looked up and directly at Dean. Bright blue eyes locked with green ones and Dean shook his head. The stranger spoke again, in a gravely tone with a tilted head.

"Do you always begin conversations this way?"

"I have my reasons," Dean answered cagily. The seated man raised an eyebrow, turning Dean's guts to jelly, which he then proceeded to spill everywhere. "My father was killed by a yellow eyed man. This man tried to take my brother. He's different. Strong. He even offered to buy him, but of course my father refused. Without a word, the Yellow Eyed Man slashed my father through the heart. I grabbed Sam and we ran.

"How old were you?"

"I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing; so the next time we meet I will kill him. I will go up to the Yellow Eyed Man and say 'Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'" The man in black sat back and stared at Dean thoughtfully. Blue eyes skated over his face, across his broad chest and down his bowed legs.

"You've done nothing but study sword-play?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck where it had heated at the stranger’s scrutiny. He cleared his throat.

"More pursue, than study lately. You see, I cannot find him...it's been nearly twenty years now and I'm starting to lose confidence. I just work for Crowley to pay the bills. There's not a lot of money in revenge." They both chuckled and, after a short while of sitting in strangely comfortable silence, the Man in Black stood, shaking out his hands and drawing his sword. He smiled at Dean.

"I certainly hope you find him someday." Dean cleared his throat again, pushing past the lump that the unexpected sincerity had caused.

"You all ready then?" Dean checked before settling in to his own fighting stance and drawing his sword. The man shrugged.

"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair." He crouched, left arm raised. Dean hesitated for only a moment before raising his own sword, left for left.

"You seem a decent fellow...I hate to kill you," Dean lamented quietly. "You seem a decent fellow...I hate to die," he responded with a smirk.

 

**"...but why are they..."**

**"Shh Jack, you'll see."**

 

The two men started slowly, light taps of sword on sword. Neither man could land a blow anywhere near the body of the other as their feet shuffled back and forth in a dance of sand and gravel. Dean could tell the man was testing him, figuring him out and pushing him to see how far his talent extends.

"You fight by defence!" Dean was surprised to note that the other man was inclined to back up over the rocky terrain rather than push forward into Dean's space. "You want me to lunge at you, pretty boy. Well, that ain't happening. I know the math."

"Of course, Thibal would be advantageous in these circumstances but seeing as you so obviously have studied agrippa, I would prefer to, at least right now, keep my distance." His blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he smirked at Dean's blush at the suggestion of getting up close and personal. Taking advantage of Dean's momentary lack of concentration, the Man in Black slid his sword towards Dean's hand in a prime-slice, twisting at the end to send the sword flying from his grip.

"Shit!" Dean turned and ran to where his sword had lodged in the undergrowth. Pulling it free he turned to see the stranger perform a flip from the rocks to which he had retreated earlier. "Holy shit, you're amazing." Dean gawped as his opponent prowled toward him like a cat.

"Thank you. I've worked hard to become so." Dean sighed theatrically then grinned. "I admit it, you are better than I am."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't know." Dean raised a finger to his lips in a mockery of contemplation.

"And what is that?" Dean flipped his sword into the air, stepping forward to catch it neatly behind his back with his right hand.

"I am not left-handed!" Dean kept moving, using the Man in Black's surprise to overwhelm him. The masked man stumbled backwards, finding himself pinned to a rock with Dean's body weight, breathing hard and staring harder, they paused.

"You're wonderful," the trapped man almost sighed. Dean, flustered again by this man's honest, open expression. Loosening his grip, he muttered,

"I ought to be after twenty years." The other fighter took advantage of Dean's sudden melancholy, pushing off from the rock, triumphantly.

"There's something I ought to tell you."

"Tell me!" Dean gasped when he was pushed bodily away. The Man in Black twisted his wrist, his sword twirling and flashing in the setting sunlight as he tossed it easily to his other hand.

"I'm not left-handed either." With renewed vigor, the men continued to fight, winning and losing the upper hand regularly, until, both breathless, they paused again.

"Who are you?" Dean asked in awe of the man in front of him.

"No one of consequence."

"I must know," Dean begged.

"Get used to disappointment." His, by now familiar, smirk in place. Dean shrugged.

"Okay…" Dean lunged as he said it, narrowly missing his target. The Man in Black twisted, and threw his weight at Dean's back, causing him to sprawl inelegantly in the dust. Dean felt a sharp prick at the small of his back, that then dragged up his spine to rest between his shoulder blades.

"Do it." Dean rested his forehead on the ground, awaiting the pain. Instead, a weight settles on his lower back, pinning him to the floor and the man squeezes Dean's sides with his knees. The blade replaced by a warm hand sliding up to rest gently against the back of his neck.

I would as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself. However, since I can't have you following me either…" The hand grew warmer. "Please understand I hold you in the highest respect." Pressure, heat and a flash of blue. Then nothing.

 

* * *

 

Crowley lowered the spyglass, and huffed.

"What an idiot. So called Best Swordsman in San Florin knocked out by a filthy pirate," he muttered before yelling over his shoulder. "Moose! He's headed this way, must be a tracker too. Deal with him." Sam rolled his eyes, making Jessica smile, much to his delight.

"Deal with him how, exactly." Sam hated working for the slimy cretin but his magic was useful and his bankroll even more so. "He beat Dean. What do you expect me to do?"

"Bludgeon him with a rock for all I care." Crowley grabbed Jessica by the wrist and dragged her to her feet. He pushed her ahead of him, holding his stiletto blade to her spine, keeping her pace quick. Sam moved to object but Crowley, seemingly anticipating Sam's dessent, aimed a glowing hand at him and he backed away scowling.

 

**"What an assbutt!"**

**"Jack!"**

 

Sam hated the bleak landscape of Guilder. Gray and rocky, it was a stark contrast to the leafy sunshine of San Florin. He gazed out over the land, to where he could still see the sharp drop off of the Cliffs of Insanity. Sam wondered briefly why they were called that while he tried to pick out the shape of his unconscious brother. Brown against brown isn't easy for even his sharp eyes to spot so he takes to marking the Man in Black's approach against the few and far between landmarks. The man is quick, eating up the distance at a non-stop sprint. Sam may be much larger than the stranger but he was undoubtedly slower so he knew the only way he could gain the upper hand was to take him by surprise. Sam waited behind the only thing around taller than him, a huge oak, and listened carefully. Hearing the man's approach, he timed his move well, throwing an arm out at face height to catch him across the jaw but Sam took no pleasure in hearing the bone crack as the man sprawled sideways into the dirt.

Seconds passed as Sam circled the Man in Black. He liked to think that despite his occupation, Dean had instilled some sense of sportsmanship in him so he waited for the man to show signs of life before toeing him in the side sharply. The man raised his head, massaging his jaw with a gloved hand, before pulling it off to continue gingerly feeling the damaged bone with his bare hand. He eyed Sam warily as blue light spilled between his fingertips, lighting up what little showed of his face. Stretching out his jaw to either side, he rose gracefully, squinting at Sam until he suddenly made the decision to slide right, darting forward to then feint left.

Sam had a feeling that the man was trying to get behind him and he didn't want to think about what he could do if he got there, so Sam spun on the spot as the smaller man darted around. He watched him carefully, expecting more subterfuge, until the man lunged forward in a tackle. Sam merely grunted when he was caught around the middle with his opponent’s full weight and he grabbed him by the back of the neck with his giant hand to yank himself free.

"Come on, man. This isn't going to work." Sam had no idea why this swordsman hadn't actually drawn his sword and he was getting frustrated. He had been sparring with Dean for as long as he could remember and he knew how to disarm and defeat _him_. This man should be no trouble if he would just draw! "Why won't you draw your weapon?" Sam yelled and the Masked Man stopped mid scramble and straightened. He tilted his head quizzically and Sam was reminded of a particularly stupid bird. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover though. He knew very well what happened to the people that did that to him. Sam stayed alert as he demanded, "What?"

"You are unarmed," the man intoned, in a voice far deeper than Sam would have expected. "Therefore, I am unarmed." He squinted and raised his arms as if it were obvious. Sam just stared at him, surprised and not a little impressed.

Morally confident that he can now attack this man, Sam raised his fists and the stranger mirrored him. The man darted forward and dove between Sam's legs, rolling to stand behind him. It all happened in a heartbeat and before Sam knew it, the man had scaled his back effortlessly. Sam thrashed bodily and clawed at the arms tight around his neck. Realising it was fruitless -the stranger being uncannily strong- he stumbled backwards, slamming his opponent into the oak and pressing with all his weight. The man gasped and grunted until Sam felt one arm loosen then a warm hand press between his shoulder blades. The hand heated considerably before Sam felt himself being dragged into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

  **“I heard his bit from your aunt many years ago, and I'm not certain where _she_ heard it, so forgive me if I'm hazy on the details.” Chuck winks and Jack rolls his eyes but grins, squirming further down in his blankets happily."**

The two men, Prince Lucifer and Count Azazel, and their guard were dressed in velvet and furs, much too fine to wear on a clifftop at the edge of nowhere. The man in the ostentatious crown dropped into a squat, examining the ground thoughtfully.

"There was a mighty duel. It ranged all over. They were both masters." He addressed his companion, who asked,

"who won? How did it end?"

"The loser, incidentally the larger of the two men, was knocked out here then ran off alone, and the winner followed those footprints," Lucifer pointed North, "toward Guilder…"

"Shall we track them both?"

"The loser is nothing. Only Lady Jessica matters. Clearly this was all planned by warriors of Guilder! We must all be ready for whatever lies ahead." Prince Lucifer swirled on one foot over dramatically, as he was want to do.

"Could this be a trap?" the Count simpered.

"I always think everything could be a trap. That is why I am still alive." On the prince’s nod, the entourage mounted their horses and rode North.

 

* * *

 

Crowley set down his tea cup amongst his picnic as the Man in Black crested the rocky knoll at full speed. The man slowed when he spotted him, eyeing the blindfolded woman at his side and the spread in front of him. Finally the stranger seemed to examine Crowley's attire, the scrutiny sending a chill up his spine that he fought to hide. Crowley held up a hand swathed in a purple glow.

"So, it is down to you, and it is down to me...if you wish her dead, by all means keep moving forward." The Man in Black froze.

"Let me explain…" the stranger began and Crowley scoffed indelicately.

"There's nothing to explain. You're trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen." Crowley tensed as the man continued to step forward, carefully inching closer.

"Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?" the stranger hazarded. Crowley had to admit that the man had judged him well if he assumed he could bribe him. However, the amount of money that he had been offered for the Lady couldn't be matched, even by a pirate.

"I'm normally a man one can make a deal with, but this time? I don't think so, darling. No arrangements," he narrowed his eyes and pressed the glowing hand against her side, "...and you're killing her."

"Then we are at an impasse."

"I'm afraid so. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains."

"Really? In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits." The man had his hands up in surrender, eyebrow clearly raised, even behind the mask, and smirk in place as he waited for him to answer.

"For the lady?" He stroked his beard and took in the man in front of him. He supposed his clothing was black at one point but now it was ripped and gray with dust. His sword was plain and had a simple triangular blade and barely any pommel. This masked man didn't even seem to be the _captain_ of his pirate ship so he weighed his options in favour of his own intelligence. "I accept!” The man nodded, stalking gracefully forward to sit in front of him.

Crowley reached into the bag at his side and pulled out a cloth bundle that he placed very carefully on the stump in front of him. He had travelled far and wide for the contents of this parcel and they were worth a fortune to the right buyer. "In here I have two very important artifacts. Identical in every way except for their translations." Crowley flipped the fabric away then laid two stone tablets next to each other. He had spent some time translating them with the help of a young man in San Florin and his rather sweet consort. It's unfortunate that Crowley had to cover his tracks in the way that he did but its done now. "You must tell me what their differences are." He raised his tea and sipped daintily, watching the -frankly quite fetching- blue eyes flicking over each tablet in turn.

The masked man made to reach for the surface of the stone before stopping and raising an eyebrow, asking for permission. Crowley certainly appreciated the gesture and acquiesced. The man only ran one long, gloved finger along the side of each piece before sitting back, apparently satisfied. After a time, he spoke, quietly.

"Where did you get these?" Crowley preened unabashedly, waving his hand grandly.

"I certainly couldn't reveal that kind of information before you've made your assessment. So I suggest you get on with it," he snapped, impatient to prove his superiority over this filthy pirate. The man continued to speak softly.

"This is a prophecy of the coming of angels", he pointed delicately to one, "and this is the instructions for raising demons." He eyed the second with disdain. "It is written in Enochian and can only be read by the ancestors of those who wrote them. They are many thousands of years old." Crowley was begrudgingly impressed by the younger man's knowledge but wary of their contest's outcome. He wondered what test the other man might present him in exchange. Instead, he surprised him again. "Perhaps I should have introduced myself before the terms had been arranged. My name is Castiel."

Crowley felt his face grow cold as his stomach turned. He barely registered his teacup falling to the ground as he tried desperately to rally. He didn't want this man to know he had gained the upper hand. Crowley cleared his throat and forced himself to relax—outwardly at least. His insides still roiled in panic.

"What difference would that make?" He knew it was flimsy the second he was faced with the man's sardonic expression. "Never heard of you," Crowley tried to deflect as he weighed his options. Run with the girl and leave the tablets, leave the girl or try to take both. Financially he was more inclined to the latter but didn't fancy his chances. "Fine, take the wretched tart and I'll be on my way." He re-wrapped the tablets and leaned down to pack them. The last thing he saw was a flash of blue light. 

 

* * *

 

Jessica could only guess at whether Crowley was dead or alive as she was dragged to her feet and yanked along at a quick pace. Her hands were still bound behind her back and her blindfold still in place, she stumbled frequently but the man with the voice like gravel- _Castiel_ -had her upper arm in a vice like grip. They walked for what felt like hours, moving at a trot over rough terrain. The man finally untied her but she still wore the foul smelling cloth around her eyes, every time she tried to remove it the man had jerked her roughly. Her senses had reduced to a fine point of sound, ragged breathing, the wind in nearby trees, a brook close by, and now...now the footsteps of someone approaching them from behind. Her captor swung her sharply to a standstill.

She raised her chin, trying to peek under the blindfold until she realised her hand had been let go. She yanked it off, and while the dusky light was still bright enough to sting her eyes, she recognised the smaller Winchester approaching.

"Hey, Stranger," he drawled and she felt the man beside her stiffen. "Fancy meeting you here...and with her. Didn't think she was your type." He grinned knowingly and Jess glanced between the men. Her captor grew red beneath the mask and, incredibly, looked down in the face of Dean's wide smile. She knew an opportunity when she saw it, she was certain she could use—whatever this was—to her advantage and escape. Dean had sidled close to the masked man and now had a hand boldly on his shoulder as Castiel blushed impossibly brighter. Suppressing a humoured snort, she surreptitiously looked around them, assessing the landscape.

Behind the men, the ground dropped away sharply and she figured it was only a matter of time before they forgot about her entirely. She waited only a few moments before Dean was leaning in close, nearly whispering in Castiel's ear. Jess steeled herself and lunged. Catching them both unaware gave her the advantage of being able to push them over the break in the land. The impromptu plan was going well until Dean reached out and grabbed the very bottom of her thick skirt, yanking her feet from under her and she tumbled down the hill after them.

They came to an abrupt stop under a cluster of trees, Jess tangled in a bush and the men tangled in each other. While she fought to uncatch herself, she noticed with a huff that the men were in no such hurry to be free. Again she took the opportunity to escape and lurched from under the tree cover to see a stand of mounted soldiers at the head of the hill. She recognised the standard as Lucifer's and made to yell but was stopped by a leather clad hand over her mouth. She struggled against it but was no match for the man.

"It seems you have done us a favour," he said in to her ear. "Lucifer's men would have caught us for sure up there. No doubt that was your intention?" She knew that he couldn't be that naive and was giving her a chance to cover up her escape attempt. She took it.

"I saw them while you were...distracted." She turned in his loose grip to see that he was no longer masked. His dark hair was a disaster, no doubt from the fall and the hood being ripped off. With a straight nose and strong jaw, he was handsome in a rough sort of way, but he mostly looked tired. His blue eyes still shone impressively, despite the now smudged coal that had rimmed his eyes behind the mask. She looked over his shoulder to catch Dean having a long hard look at the man's backside. The fact that they seemed a lot more interested in each other than her made her feel slightly more comfortable travelling with strangers.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place- _again_ -, she decided then and there to give them the benefit of the doubt. For now.

"They will have seen us come down here. We should go."

 

* * *

 

Dean had lost his balance as the girl drove herself bodily into him but he'd managed to grab a handful of fabric as he went down. He'd seen the stranger drop too, falling head over heels down the steep slope, a blur of black gaining speed. Several painful minutes later he thudded to a halt, half in a bush. He had a very brief moment of peace before someone landed on him. Hip to hip, he stared up at the striking blue eyes he hadn't been able to stop thinking about, now surrounded by dark, messy hair. He was nicely heavy against him and Dean's brain stuttered like a candle flame. The staring continued until a sudden movement in his periphery had them both leaping to attention.

Jess had made a run from under the cover of the trees and the Man in Black was faster to grab her before she could cry out to an unseen party. Dean could hear the low gravelly voice muttering in her ear and wondered what he could possibly be saying. He had a pretty vivid imagination and a spike of jealousy shot through him but he gave himself a mental shake and decided just to enjoy the view instead. Before he knew it, Jess was marching past him, stranger in tow, toward the eastern end of the valley.

"Um, that's the Fire Swamp." Dean wasn't scared, he just had heard the stories and considered himself smart enough not to willingly enter a place that was supposedly haunted and filled with monsters. Obviously his companions had no such worries and so Dean hurried to catch up.

They entered the woods just as the sun set completely, casting the trees in an eerie glow of the various natural fires scattered around the undergrowth. Dean drew up beside the other man and realised that in his head, he had several names for him but now that he was more than just a masked man, Dean needed a real one.

"So, what can I call you? 'Handsome Stranger' is a bit of a mouthful, y'know?" Dean gaped for a second, completely aghast at what had just come out of his mouth. The man chuckled at the accidental innuendo and held out his hand as he walked. Dean came to his senses and took it, gripping it tight and giving it a firm shake.

"My name is Castiel."

"Well, that's no less of a mouthful, huh?" Dean smirked, rallying expertly. He hoped. Castiel rolled his eyes and gave a burst of speed to catch up with Jess. "Shit," Dean breathed to himself and followed. Dean took up the rear and watched a fearless Jess march forward with Castiel not far behind her. As an occasional, as yet unexplained, popping noise sounded in the distance putting the three of them on edge, they each shared tall tales they had heard about the Fire Swamp; Jess swearing that she knew a man who knew a man that had been mauled by a wendigo, Castiel knew of at least one hardened warrior who had sheepishly shared the story of walking but ten feet in only to turn around and walk back out again.

Dean was particularly aware of the Rodents of Unusual Size and he said so. "Not that _I'm_ worried but are _you_ worried about the R.o.U.S's at all?" Dean would deny to this day that his voice shook. "I mean," he cleared his throat (bravely of course), "we have our swords but I heard they have armoured bellies and breathe fire…" He trailed off at the incredulous looks he was receiving from his companions. Now that he said it out loud, it did seem ridiculous. "...nevermind."

They picked their way through gnarled roots of ancient trees, using hanging creepers to steady themselves. Jess had ripped the bottom of her dress and tied it around her middle, her cotton undergarments getting filthier by the moment. Cas wore his pack slung around both shoulders to better maintain his balance. It was as Dean was staring at the back of him, that he noticed it was Crowley's bag. The one that the wizard had held so close to himself the whole way here.

"Hey Cas!" Castiel turned but continued walking. "Where did you get that?" Dean gestured at the worn leather. Jess called back over her shoulder.

"He stole it. From Crowley. They wagered for my life. Crowley lost." She didn't sound remotely upset about this but Dean was suddenly worried.

"Did you meet Sam?" Dean drew up alongside Cas because the man still hadn't slowed. He resorted to grabbing his shoulder and turning him on his heel. "Did you? The giant? W-with the ridiculous hair?" Dean stuttered, panic gripping him. He was well aware that despite Sam's courage and strength, Cas could easily outmatch him.

"I did, we fought. Briefly. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about fighting me to be honest. An easy defeat." Cas turned away, striding off confidently before simply disappearing between one blink and the next.

"Cas! Castiel?!" Jess turned back at Dean's yell and he halted her with his hand up. "Stop Jess. Cas was there a second ago and now he's...just...not." Dean cast around for a second before grasping a thick vine from the tree above. Holding it tightly, he dove forward. The ground beneath him gave way and he felt himself falling into loosely packed sand, he pushed at it with his free hand and legs, hopefully gaining distance downward.

Cas shouldn't be too far away, he was only seconds ahead and would hopefully be trying to swim up. He blindly threw out a hand, suppressing a breath of relief when it hit fabric. He pulled, the mass attached getting dragged toward him as a dead weight. Shit. Dean hung on desperately and tried to climb back up the vine. It pulled taught but he couldn't gain any traction. In the dark, he began to panic, kicking madly, still using his aching arm to drag them up the vine. His chest felt like it was going to burst, the effort of climbing and the lack of oxygen making his head swim. Dean felt Cas try to break free of his grip but Dean only held the self-sacrificing bastard tighter.

The vine jerked then moved upwards and, wrapping his legs around it,  Dean kept his head up for when his face would soon break free of the earth. He took in a shuddering breath, blinked away the dark spots, and manhandled Cas out of the ground behind him. Jess sprung forward and offered a bridge of solid branches to cling to. Both men, covered in sand, hung on gasping.

"Goddamn Cas, that was a close one. Thanks for, y'know..." Dean made a whooshing upwards gesture and Cas chuckled.

"My pleasure, I got the idea from Crowley's rope." Cas smiled at him. "Thank you for, y'know…" He made a whooshing downwards gesture and Dean laughed.

"My pleasure." Dean thought he may have stared into those blue eyes for a second or so but when Jess cleared her throat he realised that the part of him that was still underground was freezing and his arms had fallen asleep. Shit. His face red, he looked away and tried to haul himself out of the sinkhole then yelped when a large hand firmly pushed his backside, launching him forward.

Dean picked himself up, even redder in the face, annoyed that both Jess and Cas were laughing at him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Dean folded his arms and refused to pull Cas the rest of the way out of the ground. After a quick rest and sluice of water, they continued on, avoiding the tell tale patches of bare sand.

With the immediate threat out of the way, Dean wanted answers. "Castiel? What did you do to my brother? Sam?"

"Don't worry, Dean. I did the same to him that I did to you." Dean breathed out his relief, Sam was alive, but also his stomach turned. Cas may have seductively mounted his brother too and he had trouble reconciling that fact. Cas hadn't finished though. "I had a bit of trouble reaching though! He's simply enormous. In fact, I doubt he was asleep long." Dean was embarrassed to note that the fact Cas had to reach _up_ to his brother's neck made him feel a lot better. He really needed to get a grip.

The travellers kept up a quick pace, dodging sinkholes and clambering over roots ever increasing in size. They had become used to the background noises of the forest so when the wood was eerily quiet for a moment too long they paused. Ears pricked, they collectively held their breath.

Dean jumped as the popping noises they had been hearing all night sounded alarmingly close and culminated in a pillar of flame shooting from the ground.

The eruption was viscous, sticking like tar to whatever it touched. Dean leapt aside but a stray globule caught his shirt sleeve, igniting quickly despite him being drenched in sand and sweat. Dean tore at his sleeve, trying to wrench it from his torso, his tabard and bag preventing him from simply stripping the whole thing off. Each movement dripping more fire that licked at his boots and breeches. Dean had the breath knocked out of him by a large body blanketing him. Cas rolled them over and over, until the flames had been smothered both by Cas' weight and by the damp leaf litter they rolled through. Jess grabbed at them, poised with a skein of water and the men stopped moving.

Breathing deeply, Dean wrapped in Cas' arms and now, thanks to Jess, soaking wet, the men just lay there.

"Oh, by the gods, we'll never get anywhere at this rate. Come on!" Jess kicked them both in the shins, easily done with the way they were entwined, and marched off again. Dean chuckled nervously and gently disentangled them. He pulled Cas to his feet, and picked up both their packs.

"You okay?" Dean's eyes roved over the tattered remains of Cas' clothing. "No burns?"

"No, Dean. You?" Dean raised the arm that had sustained the most damage and Cas carefully peeled away the charred fabric. His shoulder was a burned blotchy mess, shiny and raw. Cas grazed the heavily blistered area gently with his palm. His hand glowed blue and a chilly warmth flowed through to Dean's chest. When Cas eventually stepped away, the burn looked as though it had been healing naturally for at least a week, merely a reddened and slightly raised handprint.

Yet another staring match, this time culminating in the men swaying towards each other, was interrupted by a scream from ahead.

"Dean! Castiel! Damn it!" The two men set off at full speed, leaping over sandy clearings, swinging from low branches and finally found Jess in a fighting stance, swinging a branch as a makeshift club.

They frantically looked around, seeing nothing but dark undergrowth.

"Shhh, there's something here," Jess whispered. "Over there." She gestured with the branch to a bush that began to rustle. Dean and Cas drew their swords, and took up position on either side of Jess, watching the shaking of the leaves become more violent.

Dean could hear his companions’ heavy breathing, Cas in exsertion and Jess in total fear. He reached out with his free hand and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Its okay, Jess, you're fine. Nothing to worry about." He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye and her breath stilled somewhat. Dean turned to smile at her but was cut short by a flurry of movement to the west. Jess leapt back as Dean dove to cover her, meaning he just tackled Cas to the ground...again. A heavy weight hit his side forcing him to roll them both...again. Promising himself to make a joke about this later, Dean climbed painfully to his feet, dragging Cas up with him. They turned just in time to see Jess take a swipe at the huge blur of matted fur and atrocious smell that had attacked them. The blow caught the end of its snout, not doing nearly enough damage but at least stunning it enough for Cas to strike with his sword. The beast turned and forced itself up the blade, teeth bared from a foaming mouth getting ever closer to Cas' face. Dean jabbed it in the side with his own blade, skewering it completely, he held it in place until Cas could duck away and stab it through. With each of them pinning it from the side Jess strode forward quickly and, with all her might, struck the thing between the eyes. Once, twice and finally on the third blow it stopped struggling. Cas and Dean released the weight of it to the floor, pulling their swords free as they did. Cas drew a short blade, similar to his sword, from his boot and drove it through the animal’s eye.

Each of them stood, staring down at the rat of unusual size in silence.

"Shit," Dean breathed eloquently. He looked around the forest wearily. "We should, uh, probably get a move on, huh?" Both Jess and Cas nodded vigorously, hefted their various weapons and strode off. Casting another look around, Dean followed.

* * *

 

Jess estimated it had been about an hour since the R.O.U.S. A long hour of jogging through the last part of the swamp. They had managed to avoid any further catastrophe so Castiel had pointed out that they knew all the secrets of the Fire Swamp now and Dean had replied that they could live there together indefinitely. Jess had rolled her eyes and ignored the gentle teasing they then began. She had been amazed to overhear Dean suggest a summer house 'over yonder' and Cas reply with the option of a 'stable round back'. They had giggled then and Jess had braved a look over her shoulder. They walked close to each other, thighs practically rubbing, heads tilted toward each other. It was sweet really and she hoped that this didn't end bloody.

As they drew close to the edge of the woods, Dean stopped. He looked like he was battling inside, biting his lip and glaring at the imminent sunrise.

"I have to find Sam," he finally announced. "I'll skirt the forest. If we got separated we were supposed to meet back in San Florin. I've already been too long. There's a port not too far from here."

"I can't go back there. Not yet anyway, I have no-one but Lucifer there and I...I can't go back." Jess realised how true her words were only as she said them. "I was only marrying him to help my family." She felt sorry that she couldn't accompany the man she had grown quite fond of, especially to meet up with his fair brother, but she wasn't safe there. She knew that her family had been taken care of and it wasn't as if it was her fault she was kidnapped. If she ran now, Lucifer would never know. She weighed her choices quickly. She decided to stick with the pirate as he showed no interest in going to San Florin despite the object of his obvious desire heading there. "I also can't go back. I can't divulge the reasons now…" He broke eye contact with Dean, which surprised Jess —she hadn't been sure it was possible— to lock eyes with his boots instead. Feeling like an intruder, Jess turned away. She heard deep whispers and the rasp of fabric. She worried for a moment when she heard what sounded like laces and clasps being undone but when she snuck a look over her shoulder, Castiel was handing Dean a bundle from his pack. Dean looked surprised, then awed as he gazed at Castiel. He shouldered his now heavier bag and turned to leave. Jess looked away again as Castiel reached for Dean's arm and drew him close. More whispering, then footsteps over cracking leaves, then nothing.

Castiel appeared at her side, looking even more tired than usual. Blue eyes dim and shoulders low.

"Come on. Let’s keep going. We can skirt around the other way for a short while. Lucifer would expect us to head to the port." He looked longingly in the direction Dean had gone. "Once we've gone a mile or so out of the valley, we can head to the further port town of Pon'tiak. Alright?" Jess nodded and Castiel took off immediately.

They were silent for the most part, covering the distance neatly. Each time Jess made to speak, Castiel would quell her with a glare. His mood had certainly shifted but she couldn't attribute it all to being love sick surely? She wondered what business kept him from San Florin and why it was causing his surliness. Another hour had passed when they reached the bridge that would take them over Regret Canyon to Pon'tiak. Jess couldn't help but peer over the edge, the still early hour shrouding the bottom and the other side in mist. The narrow rope bridge spanning the gap looked to be a century old, built with simple wooden slats and rope. Castiel, seemingly able to sense her trepidation, rubbed his hands together and grasped each rope. His hands glowed blue, as did his eyes, and he sagged to his knees. He staggered to his feet then took Jess by the hand to lead her across.

"It's safe now," he grumbled. "I'm tired but I used magic to bind it more tightly. We'll almost certainly make it over." Jessica gulped and withdrew her hand from Castiel's grip. He looked over his shoulder questioningly.

"No offence but I'd rather have a hand on a rope at all times rather than trust you." Jess carefully shrugged, still holding tight. Castiel nodded. 

"That is...both fair and sensible. Keep moving." As the sun rose, step by step, they crossed the swinging bridge. Several metres from the end Cas stopped in his tracks. "Do you hear that?" he whispered. Jess stilled and cocked her head. "Horses."

"Shit." Horses in this remote area could really only mean one thing. Lucifer and his men stood in the thick mist still encompassing the far side. She had hoped they would have gone the short way back to San Florin. It seemed Lucifer wasn't giving up on her so easily. She briefly wondered why that might be. Not love surely and he was the rishest man in the land so it wasn't her meagre bride price either. "Shit!" Jess cursed again. "Can we go back?" Castiel shook his head.

"I don't believe so." They crept forward, the jingling of tack and scraping of restless hooves becoming more apparent as they did so. "It sounds like at least six horses. All mounted. Perhaps even as many as a dozen if some have stayed further back. If I know Lucifer, he will have reinforcements nearby." Jess decided to ignore that for now, she'll worry about Castiel's supposed acquaintance to her _fiancee_ later.

Cas started to edge forward again, this time with his sword drawn. He disappeared into a particularly thick patch of fog and she followed, feeling cool, wet air on her face. She stumbled and her wayward foot caught solid ground. They had finally reached the end of that gods forsaken bridge but had also emerged in front of eight men on horseback. Six of whom were heavily armored, as were their horses. The two men in front were dressed finely, gold brocade and red velvets, with ornately jeweled swords at their hips. Prince Lucifer and Count Azazel. She unfortunately knew them both, the Count being the one to collect her from her homestead and negotiate with her parents to marry her off to Lucifer.

She had been relocated to San Florin to be inducted into court to learn the ropes and become a 'proper lady' and she rolled her eyes at the memory, feeling a surge of gratitude towards the Winchesters. Lucifer trotted forward with a glint in his eye but surprised Jess by passing her to approach Castiel.

"Cassie! This is interesting. Very interesting. What on earth are you doing here?" Lucifer circled him, occasionally poking Cas with his casually hanging foot. "We had a deal. _You_ are supposed to be halfway back to San Florin by now and _she_ was supp…" He leaned in to Castiel's side and hissed in his ear, too low for Jess to hear. Just as abruptly as he had leaned down, Lucifer straightened on his horse. "Did you do _anything_ you were supposed to?" he spat.

His features smoothed out and his voice softened to the sycophantic tone Jess had heard at court around Lucifer's parents.

"Anyway, now that you have returned her to me, we will be going." The prince held out a hand. Jess stared at it, looked to Castiel for a moment then, when he refused to make eye contact, she grabbed it and swung herself in to the saddle behind him. Lucifer dug his heels in and they took off at a canter.

Jess watched as Castiel and the remaining men grew smaller. She didn't know what their relationship truly was but she felt very little guilt turning from a man she obviously couldn't trust, into the arms of a man she loathed. Now that she had come to a decision about her own agency, she would find her own way out.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel woke up in darkness, the only indication that he wasn't dead was the fact that even hell couldn't smell that bad. He heard dripping but nothing else until a door above him announced the arrival of someone shuffling from above. They moved slowly, heeled boots clicking on each step.

A white light, held by a woman, suddenly illuminated the dank room and Castiel squinted into it. The blonde—beautiful in a gaunt sort of way—approached and began to gently tend to his wounds.

"Where am I?" Castiel's voice was hoarse from disuse and the woman held a cup of water to his lips. "You're in the Pit, don't even think about trying to escape. The chains are far too thick...and enchanted too, so don't try any of that magic of yours either." Castiel must have looked surprised as she brought her hand closer and showed him that she herself was the source of the light. "Takes one to know one," she purred, leaning in close to his ear. "I wouldn't bother hoping to be rescued either, the only way in is secret. Only the Prince, the Count, and I know how to get in and out."

His eyes darted around the room, taking in what little he could see in the gloom beyond this servant’s light. No gaps in the dark rock walls and a roughly hewn staircase leading up. Tree roots penetrated the ceiling, bringing in damp air. He could feel the magic now, thrumming at his wrists and ankles.

"Then I'm here 'till I die?" He maintained eye contact, trying to keep his expression soft and vulnerable. At this point she could perhaps be his only chance of escape.

"Until they kill you," she clarified with a grin.

Ah, perhaps not.

"Then why bother curing me?" Castiel asked, genuinely curious.

"Prince Lucifer," she sighed beatifically, "and Count Azazel," she scowled, seemingly finding it impossible to hide either her adoration for one man and distaste for the other, "always insist on everyone being healthy before they're broken." Cas sighed inwardly, so it was to be torture, he could handle torture. The woman smiled down at him, wiping the blood from his brow. "I know what you're thinking but no, no-one can handle the Rack.” She continued to tend to him until two men picked their way down the steps to join her. The men ignored them while they finished their conversation in the tone and volume of the truly entitled.

"Your princess is quite a winning creature. A trifle simple, perhaps. Yet, her appeal is undeniable." The older of the men spoke and Castiel felt his caretaker bristle as she wrapped a hand around his ankle, healing it.

"I know, the people are quite taken with her. It's odd, but when I hired Crowley to have her murdered on our engagement day, I thought that was clever, but it's going to be so much more moving when I strangle her on our wedding night. Maybe I should be thanking Cassie here for his utter failure to do as he's told and assassinate a bunch of filthy peasants." Lucifer flapped a hand. "Anyway, Guilder will be blamed, the nation will truly be outraged and they'll demand we go to war." Lucifer sighed, clapped his companion on the back and both men laughed.

"Are you staying, my lord? I'm starting up the Rack."

"My dear Azazel, you know how much I love watching you work and I trust you completely to silence him, but I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped."

The prince sighed dramatically before making his exit through an unseen door at the top of the stairs. Castiel suddenly found himself looking up into bright yellow eyes.

"You have yellow eyes." Cas noted lazily despite his heart beating nearly out of his chest. "Someone is looking for you." Azazel ignored him and instead stroked the engraved manacles that encircled Castiel's wrists.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He gestured to the maze of pipes and wooden struts. "It took me half a lifetime to invent it." He placed a leather strap around Castiel's forehead and buckled it to the table. "I'm sure you've heard of my deep and dividing interest in pain. I've collected many test subjects for my experiments. The young, the old, the strong, the weak."

He continued calmly as he lowered a pair of cups over Castiel's ears.

"Presently, I'm writing the definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be totally honest with me on how the machine makes you feel." He turned to the woman, acknowledging her for the first time, "Lilith, is the ensorcellment in place?" She nodded. "Alright, this being our first try, I'll use the lowest setting." He pulled a lever, activating several pulleys and pumps. The band around Castiel's head tightened, his ears were filled with the sounds of rushing water and as he thought the band might split his head in two he was overcome with blinding pain.

Every fibre of his body and soul felt as though it were being shredded, reassembled and shredded over and over in the blink of an eye. The Rack stopped and the room came rushing back into focus, the relief immediate and almost transcendent. Azazel continued as calm as ever. "As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. Really that's all this is except that instead of sucking water, I'm sucking life. I've just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don't know what that would do to you. So…" He produced a quill and parchment. "...let’s just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me." Quill dipped and poised. "Remember, this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?" Lilith pulled the lever this time.

The last thing Castiel heard before passing out was a faint and gentle 'interesting…'.

 

* * *

 

 

**"Queen Eve died that very night, and before the following dawn, Jessica and Lucifer were married. At noon she met her subjects again, this time as their new queen."**

_Lucifer stood upon a balcony overlooking a lavish courtyard filled with a loudly expectant audience. He raised his hands to quiet his people and when a hush descended he began. "_

_My mother's final words were…"_

**"Hold it! Hold it! Grandpa, you read that wrong. She doesn't marry Lucifer, I'm sure of it...if she married him, it wouldn't be fair," Jack whines.**

**"Well, who says life is fair? Where is that written? Life isn't always fair!" Chuck tries to reason with the boy before he gets too upset.**

**"I'm telling you, you're messing up the story! Now get it right!" Jack yells and Chuck realises the boy's parents won’t be pleased if he gets himself worked up so he pats the boy's knee kindly and makes to get up. Jack stills him with a hand to his. Chuck pauses to ask,**

**"Do you want me to go on with this?"**

**"Yes, please," Jack says, contrite.**

**"Alright then, no more interruptions." Chuck clears his throat. "At noon she met her subjects again, this time as their new queen…"**

 

_"My mother's final words were, 'love her, as I loved her and there will be joy. I present to you, your queen; Queen Jessica.’ She emerged into the sunlight in all her wedding finery, hair in braids and curls, to an adoring crowd. Mostly. A haggard old woman in rags stood front and centre, hand raised in an accusatory point._

_"Booooooo! Booooooo! Boooooooo!" she shrieked, "you marry one you don't love! You give him what he wants, you give yourself freely to a monster. You're garbage, the Queen of Refuse." The woman turned to address the people around her and her voice grew louder and more harsh as she ranted, "so bow down to her if you want. Bow to her. Bow to the Queen of Slime, the Queen of Filth, the Queen of putrescence!" She turned back to the new queen she hated and shook her fists. "Boo! Boo! Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Boo! Boo! Boo!"_

Jessica lurched from her bed, sweat soaked and breathing heavily. She sank back down, legs folded and hung her head. She hadn't cried since she was a child but she wept freely now.

 

**"It was ten days 'till the wedding. The queen still lived, but Jessica's nightmares were becoming steadily worse."**

**"See? Didn't I tell you she'd never marry that rotten Lucifer?"**

**"Yes, you're very smart. Shut up."**

 

Once she had cried all she had to cry, she dressed and steeled herself. She marched through the castle hallways to Lucifer's quarters, and despite the late hour, found him deep in conference with Count Azazel. She interrupted before she could lose her nerve. "If you tell me I must marry you tomorrow, please believe I will be dead by morning. I will not live in a cage, no matter how gilded." She finished with her head held high as Lucifer seemed to consider her.

"I could never cause you grief. Consider our wedding off," he said calmly. "If you have anywhere to go, I suggest you go there." Jessica gaped at him. She hadn't considered that he would acquiesce so readily and so hadn't thought that far ahead. She drew herself up, and nodding to both men, turned on her heel and swept from the room. She passed a man at the doorway, already addressing the Prince with news of a brute squad. Hardly her problem any more, she continued to her chamber. 

 

* * *

 

  **"The day of the wedding had arrived and the brute squad that Lucifer had arranged to clear the forest was rounding up the last few strays…"**

 

The world tilted maniacally the second Dean pried his eyes open. He looked around groggily, wondering why he had woken up from a perfectly good unconsciousness. The blurry movement above him coalesced into a large, angry man yelling at him. Dean squinted up at him with a smirk.

"Hey handsome, is this the bit where you show me your club?" Dean doubled over when the man kicked him in the stomach. He realised mistakes were made when he couldn't even draw his sword to fight off his attacker. Dean groaned when the heavy weight of the large, angry man collapsed at his side, the man’s massive shoulder catching him in the stomach. It was only a familiar laugh that dragged his attention up from the ground to stare at his brother now standing over him, Dean's head swung to and fro from the prone man up to Sam's amused face. Dean grinned. "Sammy! You came! Where have you been?" His ginormous brother pulled him up by the armpits and propped him on a nearby barrow.

"Crowley told us to wait at this…um..." He gestured expansively at the shack-like inn he was leaning against, "but you weren't here, I thought you were dead." Relief bubbled out of Dean as a giggle.

"Crowley's gone. He met the Man in Black after he knocked you and I out…"

"I know. Cas...tiel…told me he bested him in a game of wits, which is pretty impressive huh, Sam? Cas' really smart." Dean interrupted, head lolling.

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I heard Crowley ran into Lucifer's men and was shipped back North. So it looks like we won't be getting paid." Dean, through his haze, wasn’t particularly disappointed by this, but then, he was never comfortable with the dirtier money they earned now and again. "I saw the announcement that Jess was back at the castle though. She's still getting married." Now Dean could definitely see the disappointment in his massive brother’s puppy dog eyes. He was drunk, not blind. "You don't look so good…" Sam sniffed and grimaced, "you don't smell so good either."

"Aw Sammy, what are you talking about? I always look good! …and I feel fine…" Dean said these last words from the floor because his bastard of a brother had dropped him.

 

Dean woke up soaked and _very_ hungover.

"Ergh, my mouth tastes like ass." Dean tried to look down at his own tongue before swiping at his mouth with his sleeve. Sam huffed out a laugh.

"Not quite, Crowley gave me some dried bull penis the last time you got...like this." Sam grimaced, wrinkling his nose. "It's supposed to help sober you up."

"Ass, penis, tomato, tomato...wait!" Dean sat bolt upright, looking around the little hut Sam had sequestered them in. "Cas? Where is he?" Dean stood, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. "He spared my life, then saved it a coupla times. Jess' too. I…owe it to him...to at least find out if he's alive." Dean could tell that Sam saw right through him. He wasn't sure how though. Until Sam spoke.

"Would this be the man with the 'bluest eyes to ever blue'? The one who's 'real smart Sam, you'll see'? Kinda tall, dark and pretty? That man?" Sam was trying hard to hold back his grin and Dean cursed his own stupid drunken mouth.

"Whatever." Dean felt his face grow even hotter. "You coming?" He stomped out, not bothering to wait for his smug brother who was undoubtedly following. "Besides," he yelled over his shoulder, "if he's still here, he can help us get into the castle." Dean noticed his brother brighten considerably and pick up his lumbering pace.

Not far from the inn, both men froze when an unearthly wail sounded through the trees. Dean felt the blood run from his face as he realised that, despite the unimaginable pain in it, he recognised the voice.

"Cas! Sammy, that...that's Castiel, we have to find him. Come on." Dean took off at a sprint, following the ongoing screams, stopping occasionally to listen and course correct. He skidded to a halt in a clearing when the last shriek stopped. Turning in a circle on the spot, frantically searching for any further clues. Sam had just caught up when the noise started again. Horribly loud and _very_ close. "He's here? How can he be here? I don't understand!" Dean practically sobbed. He looked down, then looked up at Sam with wide eyes. "He's below us. We have to find the entrance. Help Sammy, help me," He added desperately.

The brothers separated, turning a wide circle around the clearing, poking knots and pulling on branches. A few silent moments later, Dean yelped as he felt a hand over his mouth and he was yanked bodily behind a tree. Sam shushed him, let go and pointed to the largest tree in the clearing. The ancient wood of the trunk had opened on its far side and a man and woman appeared. They spoke in hushed tones, and made their way through the trees in the direction of the castle. The man turned back briefly and his eyes flashed yellow.

Dean made to run after them but Sam grabbed him around the shoulders, anchoring him to the spot.

"Dean!" Sam whisper shouted in his ear. "Wait. You can't. She has magic, look." Sam raised a hand to point at the satchel the woman carried, emblazoned with sigils and eldritch figures. "We're no match. I'm sorry." Dean slumped. "He's dressed as a nobleman. We will find him at the castle. I swear," Sam said sincerely.

"Alright. Later," Dean huffed begrudgingly. If Sam was surprised that Dean had let the man he had been hunting and training to fight for twenty years go so easily, he didn't show it and Dean was grateful for that. He wasn't entirely certain himself why it didn't seem quite so important anymore.

They waited a few moments before approaching the tree. They felt around the bark for any sign of a latch or keyhole until Dean's finger hooked on a slot hidden within the gnarly roots. About an inch long and a thumbnail wide, it was far too neat to be natural. He frowned at it and knelt to get closer. His sword snagged on the ground behind him and he had an idea. He drew his weapon and balanced the tip on his hand. Very carefully he slid it into the gap where it stopped a couple of inches in, and leaning on the biggest root for leverage he applied a bit of extra pressure only to fall head first through the entrance that had suddenly appeared. His sword, still in the keyhole, was left behind as he tumbled gracelessly down the stairwell. His head swam as he lay in a heap at the bottom and he was dimly aware of his brother actually laughing at him. Sam scooped him up, placed him on his feet and handed him his sword.

As soon as Dean could focus, he spotted a huge contraption and his mouth fell open. Sam turned to see what had captured his brothers attention.

"Holy shit. What the fuck is that?" Sam whispered. Sam so rarely cursed but this machine clearly warranted it. It filled the large vaulted space—they must be several meters underground—and was covered in pulleys and tubing. Dean unfroze and ran to the side of the man lying prone on the device’s only flat surface. Cas was completely immobile, his chest was still and his skin pale. Dean grabbed his hand and gasped when he found it stone cold.

"Cas? Cas?!" Dean cried out shakily. "Cas, no!" He grabbed his face, running his thumbs over Cas' cheeks tenderly. "Sam, he's gone."

 

**“Grandpa! Grandpa! Wait, wait. What does he mean, 'He's gone? I mean, he didn't mean dead? He's only faking, right?" Jack clutches the comforter to his chest. Chuck looks at his wide eyes and asks again.**

**"Do you want me to tell this story or not?"**

**"Who gets Lucifer!" Jack interrupts angrily.**

**"I don't understand," Chuck says calmly.**

**"Who kills Prince Lucifer? At the end, someone's got to do it! Is it Dean? Who?!" Jack is really agitated by now, bouncing in his bed and gesticulating madly.**

**"You know, you...you've been very sick and you're taking this story very seriously. I think we'd better stop now." Chuck stands and reaches for his old coat. Jack shoots out a hand to stop him.**

**"No. I...I'm okay. I'm okay. Sit down. I'm alright." Jack slumps back against his pillows, still breathing quickly but making an obvious effort to calm down.**

**"Okay. Alright, now lets see...where were we? Oh, yes, in the Pit."**

 

"The Winchester's have never taken defeat easily," Dean declared with a smirk. "Come on, Sam, bring him."

"The body?" Sam frowned. "No, Sam. Not 'the body'. Him. Bring Cas with us. Do you have any money?"

"No, I only have what Crowley made me carry and what you brought."

"Shit. Alright." Dean rubbed his face, the tiredness catching up with him, making him slow. Eventually, he had an idea. "I may have something. I just hope it's enough to buy a miracle."

 

* * *

 

Sam squinted at the ramshackle little hut that looked like it had grown out of the ground then over at Dean who shrugged.

"Crowley told me about this guy back in Guilder, he used to work for the king." Dean knocked on the crooked door. A muffled, yet clearly irritated voice yelled back,

"Go away!" Dean knocked again...and again. He kept pounding at the door with this fist until a man slid open a gap in the wood. This man was older than Dean by several years, eyes crinkled and laugh lines prominent around his mouth. He may be scowling now but he looked like he was more accustomed to laughing. "What?! What do you want?!"

"Are you Gabriel the Wise who worked for the king?"

"I am Gabriel but I wouldn't say 'wise'," Gabriel scoffed then spat. "The king’s stinking son fired me and thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut, and pour lemon juice on it," he sneered. "We're closed! Beat it or I'll call the brute squad!" Sam stepped forward and the man had to duck down and peer out the flap at a severe angle to keep his eyes on him.

"I am the brute squad." Gabriel gulped hard. Dean interrupted with a plea.

"We need a miracle. It's very important." Dean gripped the edge of the hole, keeping it open. "Please?" Gabriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm retired. Besides, why would you want someone the king’s stinking son fired. I might kill whoever you want to save."

"He's already dead," Dean pointed out sadly. "We can pay."

"He is, eh? I'll have a look, I always like a challenge. Bring him in." Sam carried Castiel's body over the threshold into the tiny cabin that, surprisingly, was not so little on the inside. Sam could stand upright and only hit his head on the various plants, furs and trinkets hanging from the rafters. He lay the man down on the table in the centre of the room, pausing as Dean helped Gabriel shift his dinner aside. Once the corpse was laid out, Gabriel pulled at it's jaw, felt it's pulse and pushed roughly at it's still chest. "Meh, I've seen worse."

Sam was getting impatient, he knew that Jess was getting married this evening, and while he didn't know her very well, he could tell that she didn't want to. If Dean was so set on getting in to the castle they may as well kill two birds with one stone and pull Jess out with them.

"Sir, excuse me." Sam wiggled his fingers awkwardly to get the grumpy man's attention. "Could you hurry please? We're in a bit of a rush."

"Don't rush me _Tree_. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. You got money?" He backed away with his hands up as if to say, 'no money, no miracle'. Dean leapt in to, hopefully, smooth things over. "We have one hundred."

"A hundred?! Ha, I never work for so little, except once and that was a very noble cause." Gabriel took another step away with a shake of his head. Dean rallied on desperately.

"It is a noble cause, I swear! He has a family, children on the brink of starvation!" Dean clasped his hands together, the very picture of sincerity, but Gabriel only scoffed.

"Don't lie to me, try again." He smirked and folded his arms. Dean cast about and finally settled on what Sam knew to be the truth this time.

"Vengeance. He is the only man who can help me avenge my murdered father," Dean tried.

"Your first story was better. Where're those chest bellows...He probably owes you money, huh? Well, I'll ask him." Dean and Sam exchanged incredulous looks as the man shuffled around, opening cupboards, lifting blankets before eventually, resorting to pulling a set of dirty bellows from the hearth. He inspected them briefly but merely shrugged. Finally, Dean voiced what they were both thinking.

"Uh...he's dead right now. He can't talk."

"Ha! Look who knows so much! It just so happens that your friend here is only _mostly_ dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead." He waved his hand at Sam. "Please open his mouth. Now, mostly dead is slightly alive." He approached the table and inserted the pipe into Cas' mouth and pumped it a few times. As the body's chest rose, higher than any living chest, Gabriel suddenly yelled. "Hey, you in there! Helloooo! What's so important? Whatcha got here that's worth living for?" Then, with an ear to it's mouth, he pressed gently on the sternum. The brothers leaned in and Cas, barely audible, spoke… "True...love…"

"True love! You heard him! You could not ask for a more noble cause than that," Sam said excitedly. He looked over to Dean and was surprised to see him frowning. He tried to catch his eye but Gabriel was already pumping more air into Castiel. He pressed harder this time.

"...Deeaan…" Castiel whispered. Sam finally caught Dean's eye when his brother's head snapped up. Astonishment painted on his face and with a blush creeping quickly up to his hairline, Dean looked very pleased. Gabriel cut the moment short.

"True love is the greatest thing in the world but that's not what he said! He distinctly said, 'to blaithe.' And as we all know, to blaithe means to bluff. So, you were probably playing cards and he cheated...and now he owes this Dean fellow money…" The three men jumped when a tiny redhead flew into the room shrieking,

"Liar! Liar!! Liaaarrrr!"

"Get back, witch," Gabriel hissed at her.

"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife! He said true love and you know it! You're just afraid." She turned to speak to the Winchester's directly. "Ever since Prince Lucifer fired him, his confidence has shattered," she whispered loudly. Gabriel, throwing his hands over his ears yelled back,

"Why'd you say that name?! Rowena! You promised me that you would never say that name!"

"Lucifer! Lucifer! Lucifer!" The two ran around the room, shouting vaguely playful obscenities at each other.

"Stop!" Sam had summoned his voice from the depths of his giant chest and it boomed about the rafters. "If you help this man, we can get into the castle to stop the wedding. Lucifer is due to marry Lady Jessica but if we get to her first he will be standing at the altar alone, like a fool." Gabriel and his wife had frozen when Sam yelled.

"Wait, I make him better and Lucifer suffers?" Dean and Sam both nodded vigorously. "Ah ha! Now, _that_ is a noble cause. Gimme the hundred, I'm on the job!" He clapped his hands together and busied himself around the table. Humming tunelessly, the man pulled aside Castiel's shirt and found a tattoo in a language Sam vaguely recognised. It was an angular script, more cyrillic or glyphic than he was used to, but Gabriel seemed to know what it meant as he stepped back and cast a worried look at the brothers.

"What is it?" Dean asked and Sam noticed he couldn't tear his eyes away from the black ink marking the mostly-dead man's toned torso. "Gabriel?" The man in question jumped at his name, rousing from wherever he had gone in his head.

"This man is royalty. You probably should have led with that." The three men stared at each other dumbfounded, then as one, shifted their focus to Castiel. "What did you say his name is?"

"We didn't. It's Cas. Castiel." Dean spoke shakily. "We haven't known each other long. Or at all I guess." Sam winced at his brother sounding so shattered.

"Castiel is Lucifer's nephew. Well, second cousin's, daughter's son, once removed or something. Bit of a black sheep if I remember correctly. I'm sorry but you're gonna have to come up with more than a hundred." Sam drew himself up out of his usual subconscious hunch to loom over Gabriel. The man raised his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, whoa there! You have to understand that if I mess this up I could be in seriously hot water, y'know? Lucifer may hate him but I'm sure his mother and father would have something to say if they found out we were the last people to see him 'alive'!" Sam wasn't convinced and moved to grab him by the collar, but Dean placed a placating hand on his arm and spoke quietly.

"I have these." Dean pulled a couple of cloth bundles from his pack and unwrapped them at Castiel's feet. "He said they're priceless. He...he meant for me to keep them to sell. Are they enough?" Dean pleaded. Gabriel gaped at the stone tablets then his expression softened.

"Wow, he wouldn't have given you those if he didn't lo... Goddamn it, I'm a sucker for true love." He shared a fond look with his fiery wife. "Fine. One hundred and a royal favour. Keep the tablets." Gabriel and Rowena bustled around the cabin, pulling jars from shelves and bottles from cupboards. With everything assembled, Gabriel mixed up a woody pulp and despite her claim of not being a witch, Rowena muttered over the concoction and a purple haze lit the air. Gabriel reverentially appeared at her side with a jar of brown paste that he, upon taking the lid off, inhaled greedily. He grinned and dipped a brush in, pausing for another sniff, then coating the putty like ball Rowena had rolled from the pulp. Carefully, he painted the ball with the goop, then blew on it gently.

"That's a miracle pill?" Sam asked. "Yes, dear. The chocolate coating makes it go down easier but…" she declared with a raised finger. "...you have to wait fifteen minutes before potency. Here." She placed it in a small leather pouch and handed it to Dean, who let out a heavy sigh and shouldered his bag, tablets now re-packed. Sam hoisted Castiel over his back, slung like a fur stole and carefully manoeuvred them through the narrow doorway. Dean stopped to shake Gabriel's hand, grabbing him firmly by the elbow as he did so.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, before moving to press Rowena's tiny hand to his lips. "Truly." Dean backed away with a wave.

"Bye bye, boys!" Rowena chimed with a regal flourish of her hand.

"Have fun storming the castle!" Gabriel yelled after them with a grin.

 

* * *

 

Dean yanked at his brother's sleeve in a futile attempt to hide him behind the stone balustrade of the castle's keep. Sam had lugged a mostly-dead Castiel up a ladder, through a small window, up another ladder and along the wall, only to then not be able to keep his giant head down.

"Jesus Sammy, stay down!" Dean whisper yelled. Sam slid to the floor and lay prostrate, chin propped in his hands daintily and bitchface firmly in place. Dean rolled his eyes and knelt at Cas' side. He snapped his fingers at Sam who fished the leather pouch from his pocket and handed it over. "Do you think it's been long enough?"

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Dean gently pried open Cas' mouth to push the chocolate coated miracle past his lips. "How long do you think…" Dean was interrupted by a low growl. Cas was coming to, muttering threats under his breath before yelling obscenities. Dean clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh, Cas, it's me. It's Dean. You're safe…" Dean looked around with a grimace, "...ish."

"Why won't my arms move?" Cas asked with a wince. His eyes swung between the brothers, resting on Sam when he answered.

"You've been mostly dead all day. We had Gabriel and Rowena make a pill to bring you back." Dean interrupted, blushing when Cas turned his intense look on him. "Let me explain....no, there's too much. Let me sum up; Lady Jessica is marrying Lucifer in little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, facilitate Jess' escape, kill Count Azazel then ride off into the sunset. Easy." Dean finished with a shrug. Cas just stared harder. Dean wrapped his long fingers around Castiel's wrist and squeezed gently. "Please?" Cas looked down at the hand on him then back at Dean. He cast a look at Sam too, who was no doubt throwing himself wholeheartedly into a puppy dog look. Dean squeezed again.

"What are our liabilities?" Cas sighed. Grinning, Dean listed their known obstacles. He had to admit, now that Cas was on board he relished the idea of a fight, especially if it culminated in killing the Yellow Eyed Man.

"There is only one point of entry—the main gate—and it is guarded by sixty men."

"And our assets?"

"Your brains, Sam's strength, my steel," Dean said confidently. Cas started up with the staring again. This time with a touch of incredulity. Then he laughed, his head thrown back against the parapet. Dean futility tried to ignore the bobbing of that delicious adam's apple.

"That's it? Impossible. If I had a month to plan maybe I could come up with something. But this…" Cas shook his head.

"Hey, you can move your head now!" Sam pointed out. "Doesn't that make you happy?" Castiel swung his head awkwardly to face Sam completely.

"My brains, his steel and your strength against sixty men and you think a little head jiggle is supposed to make me happy?" he hummed. "If we only had a holocaust cloak, that would be something."

"Sam!" Dean whacked his brother on the arm, "where did you put the cloak that Rowena gave you?”

"Well, she asked me to put it on then tried to get under it with me so I shoved it in with the tablets." Sam blushed and Cas managed an eye roll that threw his whole head around.

"Well, _Dean_ , that counts as an asset." Cas narrowed his eyes. "What else _don't_ we have?"

"Christ Cas, um, well, I've got the tablets, some whiskey, I brought a sword for you, ah, some bread, honestly, nothing much." As Dean spoke, Sam shuffled around and pulled a black bundle from beneath his tunic.

"I may have, uh, _found_ this." He held up a padlock key. "It's for the stables." He shrugged. "I thought it might come in handy." Dean smirked at his resourceful, but thieving, little brother. "

What do you think, Cas? Any ideas?"

"Right, help me up, give me the sword. I may not be able to lift it but they don't need to know that, do they?" Dean handed over a sword much more ornate than Cas' own and his wrist twitched as he tried to swish it. "Now, there may be problems once we're inside," Cas warned and Dean scoffed.

"I'll say. Where will I find the Count? Once I do, how do I find you again? Once I find you again, how do we escape. Then wha…" Dean was interrupted mid ramble by Sam.

"Hey, don't pester him. He's had a hard day," Sam chided. Dean looked away shamefaced.

"Alright, first things first..."

 

* * *

 

Sam crouched in a smelly barrow they had found, enveloped by the cloak. The hood was pulled tight over his head so he only felt the whisky sloshing over his back and heard the occasional glug and lip smack as Dean taxed as he poured. He rolled his eyes in the dark of the hood, he would prefer it if his brother wasn't drunk when he did this but on the other hand he thought that maybe Dean needed to be a little bit inebriated at all times to function properly. A sad thought indeed, and one he would think more about later. He hoped that Dean killing the Count would end his struggles, give him the closure he needed to settle down. Maybe even find someone. Maybe he had already found someone.

Sam reflected on the despair his brother had seemed to feel when Cas had died, using his ongoing drive of vengeance to fuel his mission to save him as it was laughable to suggest that both Sam and Dean putting their heads together couldn't produce a decent plan. Then Dean had wagered the most valuable things they had ever seen based on a vague hope of reviving Castiel. It was really something. Something he hoped would happen to Sam himself. That all encompassing desire for a person and have them feel it back. He thought of Jess. If they succeeded, he would pull himself together and court her properly. See if she was as sweet and clever as she was beautiful. He sighed, shifting uncomfortably on his knees. Not a moment too soon, Dean clapped him on the back and pulled back his hood.

"Ready, Sammy? Got your lines?" Dean snorted. "Hey, remember when that travelling troupe pulled you on stage to play a tree? What was that called…?" Dean clicked his fingers. "Our Village! It was adorable, you were cute." If Sam weren't curled up in a barrow he would have kicked him. "I'll take that fond glare as a yes. Alright Cas, you ready?" A muffled, affirmative came from Dean's backside area and Sam realised with a chuckle, that Castiel was strapped to his brother’s back. Dean spotted the incredulous look and tried to shrug. "He can't walk yet, what was I supposed to do? Anyway, it's nearly time. The guard normally changes around now so hopefully there will be a bit of confusion."

Dean pulled the hood over Sam's face again, gently pulling it tight to fit well against his chin. Sam took a deep breath and stood. He was blinded by the hood and soon his visibility would be reduced to zero but he placed his trust in Dean -the only man in the world that deserved it- and braced himself. The cart shifted as Dean grunted, pushing his weight over cobbles with a full grown man on his back can't have been easy and it was slow going. They paused, Sam assumed they were poised at the entrance to the courtyard surrounding the castle keep. He felt a quick squeeze of his ankle before a great rush of hot air heralded Dean setting the cloak alight. The cart began to move again. He straightened to his full height and raised his arms as high as the heavy cloak would allow. Summoning what Dean called his Giant Voice he spoke.

"I am the King of Hell! There will be no survivors! My demons are here! I am here! ...but soon you will not be here!" he boomed. Why he let Dean write his dialogue, he had no idea. "We will take no survivors. All your worst nightmares have but to come true! I am here for your soul!" Sam dragged out the last word and swished his arms theatrically. The flames and smoke billowed and more than half the guards scattered, the remainder frozen on the spot. The barrow came to an abrupt halt in front of the main gate and Sam swept the cloak away and leapt down.

There was a man in finer clothing than the guards, cowering against the huge door and Sam crowded him further until he was a huddled mess.

"Give me the key." The man very briefly seemed to have the idea of lying but changed his mind when Sam applied a slight pressure to his sternum. He fumbled through the folds of his wet breeches to find a large key with an ornate leather fob and handed it over. Sam tossed it blindly behind him, fully aware that Dean would be there to catch it, leaving him free to launch the man bodily out of the way of the lock. He turned his back on the door and his brother, covering him while he unlocked it. He needn't have worried as the courtyard was now deserted. The same could be said for the hallway within the castle and the brothers cautiously edged their way in, peering around corners as they made their way to the centre of the keep.

Sam noticed that, while Castiel was still looking very limp, he could raise his sword more confidently now. Hopefully he and Dean could work as a double edged weapon while Castiel regained his strength. The three men snuck through a small door that led to, what looked like, a chapel. The arched roof and stained glass housed noblemen and women milling around whispering frantically. The priest at the head of the room raised his hands in supplication and the whispering stopped abruptly. Sam, Dean and Cas all listened intently around the edge of the door for what the clergyman was going to announce. Maybe the wedding was off? What did that mean? Sam hoped desperately that it hadn't been cancelled because of the lack of a living bride. From what Dean had told him, he wondered what lengths Jess may have gone to, to avoid marriage. The priest finally spoke,

"Well, that was certainly a unique mawiage cewemony!" Dean and Cas jerked around suddenly to look at Sam. "The happy couple will announce their union fwom the tewace momentawily." The crowd began to disperse through a set of doors leading to an internal courtyard. The coast now clear, the men crossed the chapel and snuck through the darkened cloisters to use the stairs adjacent to the terrace. Sam could see Dean was flagging and at the foot of the stairs stopped them.

"Dean, wait, let me take him. You find the Count and we can go see what happened. Okay?" Sam was surprised again to see Dean's recalcitrance to leave Cas to go after the Yellow Eyed Man but eventually he nodded and tugged at the straps holding Cas to his back. Sam clasped his brother’s arm at the elbow and wished him luck. Dean simply winked then took up the stairs at a sprint, sword now drawn and Castiel watched him go, regret clear on his face. "Alright Cas, now that you're in, need to do anything?" Sam joked as he swung Cas on to his back.

"Now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind retrieving some items that Lucifer took from my family home when I was a boy. Find me somewhere safe to convalesce and you can be on your way to find the fair maiden." Sam huffed a laugh and started carefully opening doors in the long hallway at the top of the stairs. Each room was larger than the last and Sam was wondering where could be considered safe when he opened the door to a fur store. It smelled heavily of cedar and body odor but it would have to do. He pulled down several capes then laid Cas down upon them. "Thank you, Sam. Truly. For everything. And really, I couldn't have planned a better resting spot." Castiel lay back and stared stubbornly at his feet. Sam had no doubt that mind would triumph over matter in this case. With a quick handshake, he backed out of the cupboard and closed the door behind him.

Sam ducked through several more doors before he heard a cut off scream. He picked up speed to follow the sound, bursting into a large, and stupidly opulent, bed chamber. Lucifer had Jess by the throat, a dagger pressed to the delicate skin behind her ear. Blood had already begun to stream down her hair to her wedding gown, blooming on the pale silk like rose petals. The dark red clouded Sam's vision and he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 Dean padded along the hallway, until he heard shouting.

 

**"** **Grandpa! You can't do that!" The old man smirks.**

**"Yes I can, it's called a cliffhanger. Now shh…"**  

 

He sped up, following the voices but ducked into an alcove when a door at the far end of the corridor opened. Peering around the stone, Dean recognised Azazel immediately. Twenty years had hardly changed him. Dean stepped out to announce his intention.

"You! Stop!" The Count froze and turned slowly on his heel to face Dean. "Hello, my name is Dean Winchester, you killed my father, prepare to die." Azazel took one deep breath and ran down the hallway as if he were a young man. Dean gaped for a second then quickly followed him through the castle, judging by the rise in noise the Count was heading for the kitchen. Dean turned through the archway at a sprint, stopping short when the breath was knocked out of him. Stumbling back and taking in the shocked faces of the kitchen staff, he looked down at the hilt of a dagger protruding from low on his breast bone. A red stain spreading quickly across his tattered shirt.

Dean was vaguely aware of the Yellow Eyed Man approaching him but could do nothing but stare at him, aghast at how close he had come, only to fail. Dean felt the weight of his sword in his hand and it twitched. The blade swinging forward to counter the taunting blow from the man above him. Once, twice, three times he parried.

"Good heavens...are you still trying to win? You've got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance. It's going to get you into trouble someday." The Count slashed again but was blocked. Dean pushed himself off the ground, backing Azazel up, step by step.

"Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. You killed my father. Prepare to die," Dean spluttered through the blood on his lips. "Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Dean repeated this over and over, getting louder each time until suddenly he had Azazel cowering against a wall.

"Stop saying that!"

"Hello, my name is Dean Winchester! You killed my father! Prepare to die!" Dean yells in his face, spraying him with red tinged spittle. "Hello, my name is Dean Winchester! You killed my father!" Dean sliced his cheek with the very tip of his blade. "Prepare to die!" He sliced the other cheek just as deftly. "Offer me money!"

"All that I have and more. Please…" Azazel begged.

"Offer me anything I ask for," Dean hissed.

"Anything you want…" The Count whimpered even as he tried another attack. Dean was quicker and plunged his sword into the man's chest, all the way through to the wall behind him.

"I want my father back, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled into the dying man's ear before releasing him to the ground. Dean stumbled backward, exhausted, knife still sticking from him. He felt no pain, simply slumped on to a stool, his back to the hearth, to wait for the end.

 

* * *

 

**"Shhh, Jack, I'm sorry, don't worry." Chuck pats his grandson's shoulder as he sniffles. "Would you like me to stop?"**

**"No." He wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "I'm okay." Chuck looks at him skeptically and hands him a tissue.**

**"If you're sure…?"**

**"Yes. Go on, please."**

 

Sam blinked. He was lying on the floor with his legs under him, the strong scent of copper in his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his horribly sticky fists to his head. His heart was pounding, the remnants of a fight he had obviously won, and he reluctantly looked around. Jessica was behind an overturned chest, one of the few things in the room not destroyed, her eyes wide. Sam raised a hand slowly, trying to ignore the blood staining his hands and embedded in his fingernails, and carefully stepped towards her, muttering soothing noises.

"Jess? I'm sorry. Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Sam asked quietly, trying to make himself appear smaller. Jess opened her mouth to speak but seemed to change her mind, she ran forward instead and caught Sam around his middle in a hug. He looked down at her and she gazed back, eyes wet and lip trembling.

"Thank you. That...that was incredible. Thank you," Jessica gushed. Sam was relieved but still confused.

"What happened?" he whispered. "I saw him...hurt you and I don't remember what…" Sam babbled but Jess cut him off with a finger to his lips. He stopped and she simply smiled at him fondly.

"Shut up, Sam." She stood on the very tips of her toes and stretched up but still fell short of his face so he scooped her up and kissed her. They grinned goofily at each other for a moment before Jess suddenly began to search the room. "I think I'm owed a few trinkets." She shrugged and started to fill a pillowcase with ridiculous ornaments and gilded baubles. Sam laughed and joined her.

 

* * *

 

Cas lay in the tiny, dimly lit space staring at his feet as he rubbed his hands together, producing faint wisps of blue light. He closed his eyes, directing his magic and his, not insignificant, force of will into the hands now clasped around his thighs. Warmth flooded him, followed by painful tingling as his blood pumped with renewed vigor. He cracked one eye open to check on the foot he was trying to move. It wiggled and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank fuck." Castiel sagged back against the wall to rest a minute before trying again. He knew the moment he could at least stagger he would go find his family's heirlooms. Amongst them, a piece of particularly powerful magic that makes the tablets seem like toys in comparison. Summoning his strength again, he forced another dose of magic into his legs. His arms had recovered significantly, and because he couldn't escape the dark foreboding he could feel in his chest, he hoisted himself up and shuffled for the door. Peering out, he saw noone, heard nothing and using the basic knowledge of a castle’s layout mingled with long since passed memories of the keep, he made his way to the treasury.

It wasn't far as Lucifer was the sort to arrange his quarters to be near his spoils and Castiel only dragged himself through a handful of doors before finding himself in a room full of locked cases and cabinets. Each door was whittled with a small viewing hole and a number. Castiel certainly appreciated the organisation when he spotted a ledger bound to a desk. He ran his finger along the edge, tip glowing blue, then yanked the giant book open. There under _Magical Artifacts: Shofar: Age and Power Unknown_ was a number. Groaning at how high the number, therefore how far away it was, he shuffled through the large room, checking his progress now and again, and peeking through the holes to see if there was anything else worth taking. As he approached the end of his search he spied a trolley filled with various trinkets. It looked as those these were recent acquisitions and sure enough, there lay Castiel's sword, labeled neatly with his name and the date. He swapped it on his right side for the weapon Dean had given him, then sheathed that one on his left. He also hefted a mace clumsily, intent on using it on any locks he encountered.

Eventually, Cas found the correct locker, let the weight of the mace fall on the padlock and the door creaked open. The horn lay there, uncovered but not dusty and Cas reached in for it. He examined it thoughtfully, taking in the faint carvings, worn by time, the gold bands around its widest point and at the mouthpiece. It was very beautiful. With a sigh of regret, he struck it against the locker’s edge. The horn cracked from end to end then slowly fractured by the power of the light now within it. Cas held on tightly as the horn's glow grew brighter and brighter, until it enveloped Cas completely. He breathed deeply, prepping his lungs for the enormous breath he would need to take for this. Once the light had identified him as friend not foe, it turned blue, and slowed. Castiel knew his cue and sucked, hard. The light ran like water between his lips and disappeared down his throat. He could feel the power running through him, settling in to the empty spots. He immediately felt strong again. After a moment, he ran from the room, ignoring the priceless antiquities around him. Once he reached the corridor, he held out a hand and concentrated. He could feel Dean but he was either very far away or close and fading. Panic struck him in the chest and he took off at a sprint with his hand held in front of him like a divining rod. He followed the distinct longing coming from Dean, turning corners faster and faster as he got closer.

He could hear the clatter of pots and a woman shouting orders, he hoped that Dean had simply become too overwhelmed by a full stomach but knew instinctively he was grasping at straws. Castiel skidded in to the kitchen, zeroing in on the man draped over the hearth, a young woman knelt at his side with her hands clasped around a knife in his chest. He dropped to his knees and the redhead stared at him with wide, wet eyes.

"I can't stop the bleeding. He's so cold. I— " she broke off with a sob. Cas gently prised her hands away from the wound and watched as the firelit shadows of Dean's eyelashes danced across his cheeks. He sighed, giving back strength was one thing but life was another. He thanked the gods for his fortune in finding the horn that gave him his power back and threw a prayer to them too for good measure. Cas gently pulled the blade from Dean's bloodied body and quickly clapped his hand over the wound. The knife clattered to the floor beside him and he drew a deep breath. He visualised the wound, a hand span deep by a thumb wide, and pulled at the magic at his core. Through the healing bond he could feel Dean's lifeforce ebb as if it hadn't decided whether it wanted to be saved or not.

"Dean! Come on. Please?" Cas kept his hand firmly over the broken flesh but leaned forward to press his forehead to Dean's temple. "Come back for Sam. Stay for your mother. Live for me, Dean. I need you." Castiel shed desperate tears into Dean's hair as he brought his lips to Dean’s forehead and pressed a simple kiss there. Cas was vaguely aware of the kitchen staff moving around them although his eyes were screwed shut. He grabbed at the loose tendrils of magic that lay dormant until he had to exert himself—the magic he usually used to get the upper hand—and forced every ounce of it into the wound in Dean's chest. Castiel sagged and sniffled against Dean's neck as the last dregs of his very soul poured out, he felt a great shuddering breath beneath him.

"Cas? Wha…" Dean muttered, trying to sit up but Cas shushed him, pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep him still. He leant down and kissed Dean gently under each eye, right on the apex of his cheekbones.

"Be still. Shhhh, you're going to be alright. Rest a minute." Castiel stroked Dean's face, pushing his hair back and running a thumb over his temple. Cas decided not to mention that he was now even weaker than he was earlier and hoped he could rest for a while too. He also withheld the fact Dean had killed the Count. Castiel worried that if Dean's idea of his life's work was over he would believe that his _life_ could end too. The redheaded kitchen maid brought them both some honeyed mead and chunks of heavily buttered bread which Cas proceeded to carefully feed and dribble into Dean's mouth, taking a few morsels for himself. Exchanging shy smiles, the men ate, drank and rested until the maid cleared her throat apologetically.

"I've hidden the you-know-what…" she spoke behind her hand and out of the corner of her mouth. "...but someone will discover it soon. Don't worry about this lot..." she gestured at the kitchen staff dismissively, "they don't give a shit." Castiel was immensely grateful to this young woman who owed them nothing but acted so companionably. Cas took her bloodied hand with his own and kissed the knuckles making her giggle with a snort.

"Thank you. Thank you for your kindness."

"It was nothing. I'm just glad you are okay. Both of you." Dean had been looking between them, bewildered by their conversation so Cas patted him gently and promised to explain later. Strength vaguely replenished, Cas helped Dean to his feet with the intention of heading back to the treasury for another hit of family magic.

"Thank you for whatever y'all are talking about," Dean said sincerely, grasping the girl in a brotherly embrace and kissing the top of her head. "I owe you one…."

"Charlie." She swatted him away and he chuckled. "Farewell!" She made an unusual gesture with her right hand and the men were on their way.

 

* * *

 

After watching Cas run his elegant finger down the neat rows of text in the giant catalogue, then following his agile backside down the many aisles to find whatever the hell he was looking for, Dean stood agape as Castiel of As Yet Unknown Kingdom cracked open a large golden egg and inhaled the deep blue swirl that escaped it. He then patted his chest and belched as if he had just devoured a whole boar. Dean simply continued to stare and Cas grinned at him.

"We should probably find Sam. Last I saw of him was the royal chamber annex. Just beyond where you spotted...Azazel." Cas suddenly seemed very interested in his own boots. Eyes fixed downward and biting his lip, he continued, "now that you have recovered, I feel it is safe to tell you the truth. You got him, Dean. You killed the man you have hunted your whole life. I didn't tell you because I needed you to have something to live for." Cas looked anywhere but at Dean until he grabbed Cas' hand.

"I know, Cas. I remember." He chuckled. "It's not exactly something you forget."

"I thought with the trauma and…" Cas swallowed harshly. "...and the wound. You might have been in too much pain." Cas finally made eye contact as Dean pulled him closer by his hand.

"Yeah well, vengeance might be a powerful motivator for survival...but so are some other things." Dean raised his hands to card through Castiel's hair tenderly and, tipping his head gently, he brushed their lips together. Dean felt Cas freeze for barely a moment before melting against him. The kiss stayed chaste despite their obvious desire, both men seemingly very aware of the poor timing. Dean reluctantly broke away, his hands sliding from Cas' hair, to his shoulders then down his arms to hold his hands. "Hold that thought." Cas hummed, eyes still closed, and nodded.

"Always." Dean grinned, and cocked his head at the other lockers.

"Anything else you wanna grab before we go?" He snagged a couple of handy satchels and pushed one at Cas' chest. "Have at it." Dean headed toward the beautiful yet deadly weapons and Cas stuck with the magical artifacts, both cramming as many items as possible into their bags. Once loaded up, Dean took Cas' hand and pulled him out the door. They snuck along the hallway, ducking into alcoves to avoid various noblemen and tiptoeing past guard posts until they got back to the bed chamber annex.

Dean carefully pushed the prince's door open and laughed out loud at what he saw. Sam and Jess pressed together, wrapped in each others arms, Jess' legs around Sam's waist a clear five feet from the floor as he pinned her against the post of the bed. Dean shared an amused look with Cas then eventually had to clear his throat. Twice. The young lovers finally sprang apart, Sam bouncing backward and stumbling over the bag of gold spilled at his feet. Dean looked at the bag pointedly, then at Jess, then at Sam's mussed clothing and raised his eyebrows.

 

 

"Sammy, tsk tsk," Dean tutted. "Stealing?" He gasped and pressed his hand to his chest, eyes comically wide then whispered dramatically, " _fornicating?_   Well I never." Dean smirked, pleased to hear Cas laugh beside him. Sam scowled but then laughed as well as he took in the satchels full of stolen goods slung around his brother’s neck and that of the man he was currently holding hands with.

"Yuh huh. Oh, how could I," Sam deadpanned and rolled his eyes. Their banter was interrupted by yelling from down the corridor and hasty footfalls of several men who, judging by the jingling sound, were heavily armed.

"Shit." Dean jumped to action quickest, shoving the bags from the floor into Sam's arms and turning him toward the door. "You go that way." He gestured to the way they had come in. "Take Jess. Cas and I will go the other way and kick up a stink to distract them, okay? Meet at the same place as last time. Okay? Okay. Go!" Sam dove left out the door with Jess just behind him, skirts flapping. Dean and Cas ran right, making as much noise as possible. Dean pulled down suits of armor as he passed them and Cas fired off shots of blue light at random, chunks of rock flying about where they hit the walls. Dean skidded around a corner and froze, Cas flew around behind him, running in to his back. At least sixty uniformed men stood in the antechamber, most of them looking up at the commotion. Cas directed a blue pulse around him and into the room, grabbed the back of Dean's collar, turned around and ran, pulling the stunned man with him.

"Come on, Dean! Move! Shake it off. You're fine, keep going." Cas shoved Dean ahead of him, still firing random shots over his shoulder, the dozen men unaffected by his magic still following. They turned a dozen corners until they found themselves cornered by a spiral stairway leading up. With no choice but to ascend, they mounted the stairs. They made it to the top, where a room dressed entirely in bookcases housed a single slim window. Cas worked to barricade the door as Dean stuck his head out to find they were more than thirty feet up. The window looked over a stable courtyard and there were several carts loaded with hay, a few barrows of manure and the odd sack of feed, none of which were conveniently placed under the window. Dean cursed and Cas joined him, squeezing his head and shoulders between Dean and the casement.

"Any ideas? Magic of flight maybe?" Dean chuckled nervously.

"Unfortunately not. I could slow us down if we jumped but I fear it would do little to save us the inevitable broken bones and organ damage," Cas intoned seriously. "If perhaps I could summon a cart…?" Cas looked doubtful but scanned the courtyard for something suitable. "Look, Dean! It's Jess! Sam must surely be near too." Dean watched as Cas held a hand out of the window, his palm filled with glowing blue liquid which he poured out to hit the ground at the base of the tower with a bright splash. The light caught Jess' attention and she called for Sam. Sam appeared from a stable leading a huge, pure black horse and looked up to the window. He grinned and waved cheerfully. Dean rolled his eyes, trust his gigantic brother to be calm at a time of his imminent doom.

"Sam! Get a cart! Pull it over here, quickly! We're trapped!" Dean watched Sam glance around the courtyard, then head towards a barrow of manure. "Don't you fucking dare, Sam. I'm not kidding, now is not the time." Sam veered off to grab the yoke of a hay cart and pulled it quickly under the window. Cas immediately embraced Dean, warmth flowing from him and he slammed his eyes shut at the bright blue glow spilling out from under Cas' eyelids.

"Deep breath, Dean." He sucked in air and Cas pushed him out the window. He fell fast, but his speed was arrested a heartbeat from landing in the hay, breath knocked from him. He lay dazed for a moment until his vision cleared enough to see Cas clambering out of the window above him. Dean rolled awkwardly out of the cart and landed gracelessly at Sam's feet. Cas landed behind him, using his momentum to roll out of the hay and landing on his feet beside him.

"Show off," Dean muttered, clambering to his feet. Cas merely shrugged, small smirk on his face.

"Sam, I'm very happy to see you again so soon," Cas said politely, as if he were at a damn tea party. "I, for one, am grateful of your larcenous tendencies." Dean laughed and slapped his brother in the chest.

"Me too, man, me too. Now what have you got for me?" Dean rubbed his hands together and grabbed the reins of the black horse, her silver tack jingling prettily as she reared slightly and snorted. "Shhh, whoa, easy, Baby. I've got you." The mare calmed and Dean looked up to see Cas already astride a tan stallion, smiling down at him fondly. Dean glared at him playfully as he swung himself artlessly into the saddle. Sam and Jess were mounted on a positively massive chestnut gelding and a truly stunning albino. Despite their ragged and stained clothing, they looked regal by the moonlight. Cas clicked his tongue and took off with a cheeky glance over his shoulder.

 

**"...and thus, the convoy started." Chuck notices Jack's eyes begin to close. "The beautiful lady accepted Sam's courtship. Selling their various spoils to become Lord and Lady Winchester, title bequeathed by a little known Prince Castiel, twenty seventh in line to the throne of San Florin." He pulls the comforter up to his grandson's chin and tucks it in around him. "Said prince gained the favour of his parents by returning several beautiful and powerful artifacts to the family home then eloped to the Forest of Lawrence with the elder Lord Winchester."**

**Jack snores very gently by the time Chuck is at the door and he dims the light. He smiles softly at the sleeping boy and whispers,**

**"and they lived happily ever after."**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
